


Humming

by alabaster_wings



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Harry is a Little Shit, M/M, Mental Instability, Niall Has An Eating Disorder, liam is oblivious to literally everything, louis is possibly insane, nick and aiden are probably going to kill each other at some point, perrie is a therapist, perrie is probably going to leave zayn if he proposes with a ring pop, zayn is probably going to propose with a ring pop, zayn likes to paint the bottom of people's feet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-15
Updated: 2013-12-10
Packaged: 2017-12-26 14:50:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/967228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alabaster_wings/pseuds/alabaster_wings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Serial killer tendencies or not, Harry is determined to crack the new kid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

With broad shoulders and narrow hips, Harry Styles always did sort of give off that pretty boy vibe. The too-big green eyes and skinny jeans that took twenty mintues to wiggle into and the far too stylish boots he always wore only added to it. His messy, never ordered curls and crap band shirts were the only things that really made up for it. 

He didn't care much, though, not when it got him all the perks of beautiful people.

In his own deviously innocent eyes, Harry Styles was one of the most privileged people in the world. He got the best room to himself in the whole house, without a roommate no less. No one ever told him no  _ever_ , not even when he was doing something he shouldn't. And, above it all, he got some pretty amazing blowjobs without having to give a single thing in return.

The only dark spot in his life, really, was his location. Not the current one--which would be pressed up against a wall with a beautiful boy between his legs. No, there wasn't anything wrong with  _that_ position, but the fact that they were in the basement of a mental facility wasn't really much of a mood-enhancer. As a four year resident, Harry was normally immune to the solemn fact that he was, in fact,  _mentally unstable._

But his wandering mind meant it was bothering him today.

With a huff and a frown, Harry pressed two fingers against Aiden's forehead, "G'off, mate."

"But," Aiden was pretty and had a mouth that just turned  _so_ pink, but he was sort of annoying in that moment.

Harry waved a hand dismissively, buttoning his jeans and doing up his fly, "No hard feelings, yeah? Maybe we can watch a moive later or something. Later, chap." And then he was skirting around the still-kneeling Aiden, leaping up the stairs with practiced litheness. It was shitty of him, to leave Aiden hanging like that three days in a row, but his mind was otherwise occupied.

With a mile-long rap sheet for why he was locked up in the first place, Harry knew there was a reason he didn't have a roommate, why he never got told no, why so many people wanted him. He knew he was sweet and doe-eyed when it suited him and proper terrifying when he got tired of being nice, and he knew that even his nurses and doctors were just a tiny bit scared of what he could do.

Harry Styles was born without an Off Switch.

There was no "line" in his eyes, there was never a point of too much or no return. Harry honestly believed that he had the right to do anything he wanted, be whoever he wanted, say whatever he wanted, without a single consequence. Maybe it stemmed from his tycoon of a father raising him to believe that they were the upper-crust of the world and that Harry should take what he pleased. Maybe it was because he had one of those possessive personalities that could only be hereditary. 

It was probably just because he was an ass.

Frankie, who had a tendency to light things on fire when she was called Francesca, was sitting in the middle of the hallway, a party hat sticking up on her head and her feet pressed to the opposite wall about four feet off the ground. She wrinkled her nose at the sight of Harry, taking in his half cocked situation, "Dammit, Styles, how many times are you going to stop Grimshaw right in the middle?"

"It wasn't Grimmy this time,  _Francesca_ ," Harry's voice was a snarl, his face a dopey smile. 

She bared her teeth, fingers starting to twitch as if she had a lighter in her hand, "Fuck you."

He tumbled sloppily to the floor, legs splaying because he honestly had no idea what to do with them when he wasn't standing up, "I've already got people for that, but that's for the offer. Now, tell me what you know about the new toy being shipped over today."

Frankie was grumpy and moody and pretty much a cross between godzilla and the beast that is a woman, but she somehow was the only one that could entice information out of the nurses. She gave Harry a cursory glance, her fingers stilling as she shifted out of the way of his gangling limbs, "Don't you have  _people_ for that?"

"Don't be so contrite, love." But her eyes narrowed so he tucked his gawky legs under him as best he could and pushed his fingers through his messy curls, "Fine, fine, I'll get you a lighter." It was clear that she was wavering as her hands went back to miming setting something on fire, so Harry continued, "And you can sit next to Jade for the week."

Frankie shifted forward, the closest thing to a smile on her face, which was really just her mouth relaxing from its thin-lipped expression, "Okay, so the nurses aren't talking much, but he's live and lucid from what I've heard. A right pretty one, but I'm pretty sure he won't be dropping to his knees for you any time soon. Not sure you'd want him to, though, since he's killed at least seven people. Proper psycho, that one."

"Oh, dear Francesca, you underestimate me. Serial killers happen to give the best head. When's he arriving?" It took quite a bit of difficulty to arrange himself into a position suitable for the narrow hallway, but Harry always felt odd standing over people when he was trying to be charming.

Frankie's face twisted sourly and her lips went back to pursing, eyebrows drawing together, "Right now. How else do you think I'd know he's pretty?"

Harry lurched to his feet, narrowly missing hitting Frankie square in the nose. He waved absently as he stumbled down the hall, tripping his way to the front. He was uncoordinated and uncaring most of the time, pidegon toed and lanky all the time, and still somehow unwaveringly appealing to just about everyone that laid eyes on him.

Some people just pulled off awkward.

When Harry finally got control of his limbs, he found himself in the front foyer, stopping dead in his tracks in the doorway. Being patted down by one of the few male nurses was a brooding, god-like, utterly  _pretty_ boy. His tousled hair was chesnut brown and skittering across his forehead uncaringly, mostly covered by a black and red snapback pulled low over kohl-ringed eyes of an undecided color. A flash of silver above his left eye as his head tipped to the side indicated a piercing in his eyebrow of sorts, and Harry found himself wanting to tug at it. With his teeth.

Paul, the only male nurse brave enough to ever talk to Harry directly, stepped into his line of vision, abruptly cutting off his examination of his newest toy, "You aren't allowed to be up here, Styles."

"Pish posh, mate. I'll just stand here and look cute, not a peep out of me. Scout's honor." Harry wasn't entirely sure how much that counted since he'd never been a boy scout, but it surely had to count for  _something_ that he was offering to stand there and show off his mighty fine cheekbones without a fuss.

Even he had to admit his mouth was really his only drawback. Correction, what came _out_ of his mouth was the flaw. There wasn't a damn thing wrong with his lips.

Paul wavered only because he had an affinity for cheekbones and dimples, not that he'd ever admit such a scandelous thing, "One word, and I'm putting you on the list for daily rectal exams for the rest of the month."

Harry's lips tipped up into a shameless grin, "Aw, if you wanted to play with my ass, all you had to do was ask."

Their banter was abruptly interrupted when Ed, the nurse that was making Harry  _very_ envious of his job, gave a startled little cry. Harry and Paul looked curiously to find a switchblade dangling from the now-pale nurse's gloved fingers, " _Fuck."_

"Oh, piss off." Harry was decidedly in love with that warbling, hyper voice that was much too high for snapbacks and eyeliner and eyebrow piercings.

Paul gave Harry a scathing look before taking control of the situation, stepping back over to the new kid, "Louis, you were told to remove all hazards at the gate." Paul was big and muscled and the freight-train type, but his deep voice and caterpillar-like eyebrows hid a big softie.

It just took a bit of sucking him off to see it.

_Louis._ Harry knew he was staring, obssesively so, and he also knew he was missing the entire conversation. But, damn, if he didn't care in that moment. Not when his name was Louis and he was wearing  _Vans_ of all things and his tongue appeared to be pierced as well and he was just so-- _fuck._

He'd just found his Exception.

~~~~Harry blinked and Louis was being bodily shoved by Paul toward him, well, toward the hallway that he was blocking. But it didn't matter when Harry was ready to drop to his knees and see how long it took him to undo Louis' fly with his teeth. He didn't have the neural activity to move out of the way in time, so the entire length of his body from chest to knee brushed against the new kid's.

Satrtlingly crystal clear blue eyes looked up at him, the color amplified by the eyeliner and by the darkness of his pupils, "Fuck off, Brony."

"Wanna help?" Harry was always prepared with a sexual offer, especially when it came to pretty boys that really had no business being pretty with such attitude. Louis had the personality of someone that should look like Paul, not the short, fairy-like body he was in current possession of.

And, fuck it, that really only made him sexier.

Louis looked like he was attempting to reach for the knife he no longer possessed, his lips tipping down into a lip-curling sneer, "I don't play with my food; I devour it." His pierced eyebrow arched so that it disappeared under the brim of his hat, eyes shocking and sparkling and not nearly pleased enough for Harry's tastes.

Unable to resist stretching his fingers out just enough to brush the shorter boy right across his crotch, Harry dropped his eye in a wink before heading to lope messily back down the hall, "Well, my room number's written on the bathroom wall if you wanna give this particular slice of pie a go. I charge by the orgasm, though, so might not wanna come empty handed."

He stopped halfway down the hall, though, turning back to give Paul a lopsided grin that was far too boyish for his nineteen year old status, "Oh, and I'll see you bright and early, Pauly, for my rectal exam. Make sure your fingers are cold!"

-

"Does Grimshaw  _know_ you're fucking Aiden on the side, or, well, trying to?" Zayn was the monogamous, straight-laced type that couldn't possibly even comprehend the idea of multipule pleasure partners. But, Harry reasoned to himself, that was probably because he'd found his Exception at age seventeen and they were happily insane together. Wretchedly so.

Harry rolled his eyes, trying not to let his toes twitch, "Zaynie, baby,  _everyone_ knows I've ditched Aiden mid-blowjob thrice now. If Grimmy cared, he wouldn't have grabbed my ass so enthusiastically at lunch. Though, I have to say, I'm rather offended that you'd think I couldn't talk myself out of it."

Zayn poked his head up from staring fixedly at the bottoms of Harry's feet, a smear of piss-yellow paint smeared across his left eyebrow, "I just thought you'd at least let the boy finish  _once_ before deeming him inadequate."

"I don't think he's inadequate," Harry wiggled his toes just to hear Zayn give a strangled little cry of frustration, knowing he'd just messed up the still-wet paint on the soles of his feet, "I just think he's a bit too enthusiastic with his teeth is all."

Zayn showed no mercy in pulling his toe hair as a reprimand, the tickle of a paintbrush returning to the creases in Harry's toes, "Yeah, well, I hear the new toy got roomed with Niall and Liam. Poor fucker, won't be getting much sleep. Were you aware that Niall can hold his breath for three minutes?"

"Four if you suck him off first," Harry replied disinterestedly, doodling with a sharpie across his obscenely large palm. A butterfly took form, the wings uneven and lopsided, but otherwise cute enough.

Zayn really shouldn't have been surprised, but he still choked on his tongue for a mintue before being able to open his airway enough to change the subject from cock sucking, "I'm thinking of proposing. Just can't decide between cherry and strawberry for the ring flavor."

" _I_ will cut off your balls if you propose to her with a  _ring pop_ , you tasteless bafoon. Do you even know her ring size? Underwear size? How long she can hold her breath? This is  _Perrie_ we're talking about, mate. She's your therapist, Zayn, your  _therapist_." Even Harry drew the line at having sex with his doctors. Nurses were acceptable, but doctors were  _sterlie_ and probing and who wants to have sex with someone that's going to  _analyze_ how you are in bed?

"Yeah, well, not exactly like I've got time to hit the shops for a rock, now do I?" Zayn pulled at Harry's toe hair again, just to be cruel. 

Harry propped himself on his elbows, sorely tempted to climb out of bed and go in search of his sassy new toy, "All you had to do was ask, you tosser. Give me a brand and a size, and it'll be here within the week." Harry wasn't in the market for doing favors, especially to straight guys, but Zayn had found his Exception.

And Exceptions trump orgasms.

Zayn looked up at his best friend suspiciously, flicking Harry's toe experimentally to check if the paint was dry. His finger came away green. "What's the catch?"

"I want my Exception, mate. No catch. Gotta catch up on my good karma if I ever expect to buy a ring for myself." It was true that one of the few things Harry was lacking in was good karma, so he figured he might as well catch up on it by doing a service for the greater good of the entire house. No one much liked Perrie on a good day, let alone when she was fumming because Zayn was such a royal shit head.

"Speaking of, heard the new kid called you a Brony. Should I steer clear of the laundry room tonight?" The laundry room was where Harry went to hook up with pretty much anyone that he planned on getting farther than a blowjob with. It was amazing how much noise a dryer could cover up when there was a pair of shoes or twelve inside it. 

Harry resisted the urge to pout, unable to hide the indignant huff that escaped his chapped lips, "I'm getting up now. Are you done with my feet?"

"No."

Green and orange toe prints trailed after Harry as he traipsed out of Zayn's room and down the hall. He  _really_ needed someone to make out with, someone that would crawl into his lap and wrap their legs around his waist and let him turn them into a quivering mess with nothing but his lips and his tongue.

But, when he knocked on Niall and Liam's door, fully prepared to say whatever he had to in order to snag Niall for at least half an hour, Louis the motherfucking Exception opened the door. And he wasn't wearing a shirt. And he was still wearing that fucking snapback.

_"Fuck,"_ Harry reached out, fingers gripping the door frame harshly as he pressed his body forward, eager to make  _anyone_ fall apart in his capable hands. If only he'd let Aiden finish this morning.

Louis blinked as if trying to recognize the mess of a boy in front of him, smearing eyeliner across his face as he rubbed his eyes, "Fuck you want?"

Harry wanted, he  _really_ wanted to grab that squre little jaw and shove it down to his cock, but he just clamped his fingers tight around the wood of the frame, teeth grinding together, "To fuck you senseless. Where's Niall?"

"You can't have him!" Liam's voice sounded shriller than normal, which meant he was probably being sucked off. The fucker.

Harry ran a tense hand through his hair, taking extra care to press it into his face, "Greg. Need Greg."

Louis tipped his head to the side, neck muscles shifting under his bronzed skin as he did so, "You're leaving footprints."

"Gotta give my followers a way to find me," Harry replied tersely, feeling his cock strain against his jeans. Fucking skinny jeans.

"This lot's clearly not embarrassed about their nudity, so why don't you show me your room? I'm curious to see the My Little Pony posters." Louis stepped forward, closing the door behind him as he went. His head tipped up as their closeness increased, hands coming up to curl around Harry's wrists. "Well?"

Still clutching the frame of the door, Harry  _really_ needed to wreck someone.  _Now._ "If you come to my room, you aren't leaving."

"I might be a little peckish." Louis punctuated his statement, by dropping one of his hands between them, giving Harry a healthy squeeze.

Holding in the extremely pathetic moan hanging on his lips, Harry found his cock throbing something fierce, "I'm going to make you apologize for calling me a Brony." He was pissed that he couldn't do that at the moment, but he was  _definitely_ going to make good on that promise.

"Bring it,  _Brony_ ," Louis didn't look the least bit apologetic.

Fucking Exceptions.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What the fuck is an Exception?

"I'm decidedly undecided on the entire matter," Louis stated, fingers walking across his chin.

Harry peeked up from his own hand of cards, feeling the paint on the bottoms of his feet peel as he flexed his toes, "You can't be undecided about your mental stability. Either you're insane or you aren't."

Louis tipped his cards to the table, revealing an absolute shit hand, "Sure I can be undecided. It's not like I  _have_ to be one way or another. Take you for example. You're a bit of a dick, mate. Actually, I sort of want to punch you in the throat. But you've got that little grin with those dimples that you shouldn't even be allowed to have in the first place. So, yeah, you're a total fucker, but at the same time you've been almost sweet a few times."

What the fuck even?

"What the fuck even?" Harry had absolutely no fucking clue what he was doing talking to this  _psychopath_ , but Louis was shit at cards and had his legs in Harry's lap. So there really wasn't a reason why he  _shouldn't_ be talking to this kid either.

"What? You think you're the only one that can act however you want?" Louis' heel brushed the inside of Harry's thigh, his hand coming up to flip his snapback around. The full view of his face without shadows or angles was really...it was something else. 

Harry might've stared for a bit longer than necessary, unable to stop drinking in the cheekbones and the angles and the  _everything_ of Louis' face. When Louis leaned over and snapped his fingers in Harry's face, he scrambled to find the thread of conversation, "Uh...does that mean you  _choose_ if you want to be psychotic or not? Like, is that even legal?"

"As long as I can convince a jury of my mental instability, then sure it is." The silence that followed was heavy, full of Louis' frightening seriousness and Harry's insatiable need to shove his tongue down his serial killer's throat.

"Heard you're a killer. That true?" Harry pressed forward to lean on his elbows, arching his eyebrows expectantly. It had been hard to miss the various scars coating his Exception's skin, and he was curious to know if they matched with Frankie's story. It wasn't that she wasn't a reliable source.

It was just that she was usually full of shit.

Louis stretched his arms above his head, tipping his chin back to stare at his clasped hands in the air, "Sadly, that isn't what I was busted for. _Harassment_. Eight-- _eight--_ fucking murders and I get caught for  _harassment_. Needless to say, I probably  _was_ psychotic during my trial. What about you, Brony?" Tugging on the little ring in his eyebrow, Louis waited pateintly, as if he hadn't just confessed to mass murder.

There was something respectable about that, honestly.

"Uh," sucking his index finger into his mouth, Harry thought for a moment, trying to get them all straight in his head, "I think the first time was for suicide. The most recent was for, um, having sex in the back of a cop car? With a vase, I think. Maybe." He continued sucking on his finger, his eyes locked on Louis' determinedly. It was probably cheating, sure, but there was nowhere in the rules about teasing.

And there certainly wasn't anything that stated it wasn't okay if the Exception initiated the whole thing.

"Goddamn it, could you please  _not_?" It was hard to tell since he'd flipped his hat back around, but Harry was fairly certain he was receiving bedroom eyes from across the table.

Victory in sight.

Continuing to suck on his fingers, Harry blinked innocently, drawing his index out of his parted lips slowly, tauntingly, "My room, my rules, killer."

"Original," Louis deadpanned, reaching forward to snatch Harry's obnoxiously large hand and yank it to his side of the table. He sucked Harry's index into his mouth, letting his tongue caress the tip of his finger. His cheeks hollowed out like he was putting an obscene amount of effort into sucking Harry's  _finger_ , which begged the question: how enthusiastic would he be at sucking other things?

_Fuck._

Deciding that line of thinking wasn't getting him anywhere but closer to cutting off the circulation in his legs from how tight his jeans were getting, Harry let his voice deepen and curl around the room as he spoke slowly, drawing out each syllable, "Red lips, devilish tongue. My heart, it skips, and I hope you're not done." 

He was a little shit.

Louis stilled, his eyes narrowing. Pulling off with a pop, he dropped Harry's hand as if it had burned him, "What the actual  _fuck?_ I'm not sure I can fuck you now.  _Poetry?_ Are you fucking  _serious?_ "

"I had no intention of letting  _you_ fuck  _me_ to begin with, killer. And don't even pretend, my poetry has gotten me some of the best sex of my life." Harry didn't have an incredible wit or a particular gift when it came to intelligence, but, damn, could he wax poetic. And he certainly didn't hesitate to use it to drop the pants of just about anyone.

And then Louis was gathering a fist full of Harry's shirt across the table, yanking until they were nose to nose. His voice was a low growl, like he was a predator closing in on his prey, "Listen, you fucking Brony, I've been in a holding cell for the past four weeks. If you think for one second that I'm going to--"

"If you don't kiss me right now, _I_ might have to consider murder." Harry couldn't seem to focus his gaze on anything other than the telltale glinting of the piercing in Louis' tongue, wanting to reach out with his tongue and give it a nice little tug. He undoubtedly would at some point, but he wanted to  _now._

Patience was a virtue he didn't have time for.

"Better find your firts victim, then."

-

"Attention, everyone," Niall announced loudly, clapping his hands together to draw attention to himself. Once everyone was staring expectantly at him, he grinned cutely in a way that not even Harry could pull off, "Oh, right, yeah, I just wanted your attention. Zayn has something to say I think, though."

Harry rolled his eyes. _Idiots._ Idiots were cutting into his Gossip Girl time. 

"As we all know, Harold is a bit of a dick," okay, with an opening like that, maybe this would be worth it.

_Maybe._

Harry grinned innocently as several pairs of eyes turned to him, placing a finger over his lips and turning to listen studiously to his best friend, "But that is about to change."

Another lengthy pause ensued.

Frankie, who was curled up with her lighter, finally rolled her eyes and snapped, "On with it already, Malik. Some of us actually have things to do."

"Setting your bed on fire doesn't count," Aiden cut in irritably, his arms crossed and his lips turned down into a scowl. Harry personally thought his face was much too pretty to look so sullen, but he was more interested in where Zayn was going with his speech.

Unfazed by the side banter, Zayn continued, saying with a flourish, "Our little Harry has found his Exception."

Everyone started talking at once:

"Fucking  _what?"_ Grimshaw squeaked, looking utterly appauled.

Frankie snickered, accidentally leaving a singe mark on the couch as she laughed, "Knew it."

"Does that mean I don't get to suck you off anymore?" Aiden asked dejectedly, looking even more glum than he had a moment ago.

Niall bellowed out a laugh, "Seriously, mate? Don't you have to be, like, commited for that shit?"

Liam looked positively delighted, knowing his boyfriend was safe from the Styles for once, "About time."

"What the fuck is an exception?"

Just as everyone started talking at once, they all immediately fell silence collectively, turning to face the doorway. A very confused looking Louis the serial killing Exception was standing there, his eyes on Harry like he would actually get a straight answer out of  _him._ Highly unlikely.

"It's an instance or case not conforming to the general rule," Liam offered helpfully, grinning like he was already best mates with the new kid.

Harry fumed silently in the corner, his good mood gone. The absolute number one rule of Exceptions was that the Exception couldn't know about it. Number two was that the Exception had to initiate any and all interactions of the intimate variety.

And,  _fuck,_ Harry  _really_ couldn't handle rule three: absolutely no sexual interaction with  _anyone_ except the Exception until relations have ended.

"Shut the fuck up, Liam," Frankie, Zayn, Grimshaw, and Louis all said at once, completely ignoring the way Niall was babbling about something to do with Kate Winslet and whipped cream.

_Idiots._

Harry scrambled to his feet, rushing to pin his serial killer to the doorframe, "You could always fuck the answers out of me."

"Shut up, Harry," Zayn scolded, signaling Liam in some weird parody of sign language in Harry's general direction. Liam complied before Harry could say anything else, hefting the 6'2 boy over his shoulder and heading down the hall in the direction of his room.

Harry propped himself on Liam's back, wiggling his fingers sadly at Louis, "Ta ta, killer. You know where to find me if you fancy a bite to eat!"

"Shut up, Harry!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope it's not shit xx


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To fuck or not to fuck, that is the question.

Harry squirmed uncomfortably in the crackly leather chair he currently resided in, trying to shrink into himself. With his never-ending limbs, that wasn't exactly a possibility at the moment. Didn't mean he wasn't going to try though.

Perrie examined him over the rims of her totally bullshit glasses that she only wore because Zayn had a fetish, "Harry, answer me."

He cringed, staring determinedly down at his hands, twisting the ring on his thumb.  _Bros before hoes_ , he reminded himself firmly, biting down on the inside of his cheek. This situation was seriously fucked up, and he was going to be absolutely fucked (not in the fun way) no matter what he did here.

"Fine, I'm putting you back on Lithium." She bent over her binder of information on Harry, pen poised to write out the perscription. With one eyebrow arched elegantly, her lavender hair piled sophisticatedly on top of her head, Harry was reminded rather suddenly that she was actually a  _therapist._

And, you know, not just the chick his best mate was shagging.

Slumping, he crossed his arms and jutted out his lower lip, giving an overly dramatized sigh that wasn't dramatic at all to him, "You are  _evil_ , Perrie. Absolutely  _evil._ Not only could your liscene be revoked for bribing a patient, but you could be  _arrested_ for ina--"

"Cut the crap, Harry. I'm not asking for specifics. I'm asking if he's going to pop the question or not. A girl likes to be prepared, you know." And then, just like that, Perrie was back to the chick that Zayn fucked instead of the serious and prudish therapist that liked to put Harry on antipsychotics to watch him flip his shit.

"Fucking  _fine_ , Pez. I don't know. Okay? He told me he was thinking about it the other day, but that was as far as the conversation went. And I swear to god, if you put me on that shit again, I will let him propose to you with a motherfucking  _ring pop_." Just because he'd taken it upon himself to order a ring without consulting Zayn first didn't mean he was going to offer up that information as well.

After all, she hadn't "asked for specifics".

Crossing her legs primly, Perrie flipped her book closed and tossed it to the desk, propping her chin on her fists, "So, tell me about your Exception. Zayn says you're a changed man already."

"Fuck," Harry rubbed over his face with his hands, his mind flipping to the conversation he'd had just barely an hour prior:

("Harry?"

"Fucking  _what?"_ His rectal exam had been canceled, so his mood wasn't his own fault.

Louis had given him an absolutely  _charming_ grin, sounding positively delighted, "Your name rhymes with my favorite flavor. Cherry. Harry. See?"

"Unless you've decided that  _I'm_ your favorite flavor, go deep throat a cactus." He'd grumbled rather sourly into his breakfast.

Louis had leaned down close to his ear, taking a bite out of the lobe for good measure, "Mm, maybe you are.")

Perrie was looking expectant and impaitent again, so Harry quickly blurted out, "Well, other than the fact that he's a serial killer, he's everything I've ever wanted in an Exception. Wait, no, scratch that. The serial killer part is good too."

He was so totally  _fucked._

"Harry, it's rude to assume things about people. Remember how torn up you were when Zayn thought you were gay?" Perrie tutted, having to push her glasses back up her nose to keep them from nose-diving. Ha. Nose-diving.

Harry stared back, unamused, "I  _am_ gay, love. And he  _is_ a serial killer. Told me so and everything."

She looked ready to further argue the point, but the little timer in the corner of the room started going off as if it were the goddamned apocalypse or something, so she just clapped her hands together and grinned, "Right, well, no new meds for the time being, and I'll see you next week."

Jumping to his feet quickly enough to stumble into the little table next to his chair, Harry gave a wiggle of his fingers in parting, "Later, Pez! Remember that everything we discuss is  _confidential!"_  Perrie was a bit of a gossip addict, and knowing her (which, of course, Harry knew  _everyone_ ) she'd be the idiot to let slip to Louis that he was Harry's Exception.

Not that that was necessarily a bad thing.

Zayn would call total bullshit on the whole thing though, so Harry hoped Perrie wouldn't spill the proverbial beans.

Hip-thrusting his way down the hall in his socks, he started humming the first song that came to mind, bumping into the wall every three feet. Once he was halfway down the hall, a door opened and a familiar head of toussled brown hair appeared, "Are you  _seriously_ humming Bad Girlfriend?"

Harry shrugged, unembarrassed, "What are you going to do about it, killer?"

It was only then that he noticed Louis was poking out of  _his_ room.

"I have some questions for you, Brony. In you go," Louis reached out, fast as lightning, hauling Harry into his room and tossing him uncerimoniously onto the bed. Locking the door and leaning back on it with his arms crossed, Louis let his eyebrows furrow together, "Now, what's all this about exceptions?"

_"Exception,"_ Harry corrected automatically, blinking boredly, "with a capital  _E_. Everyone gets one, killer. And, just so you know, I'm not actually allowed to explain any of this to you. Zayn or Niall could, though, after you went through initiation."

Louis pursed his lips for a moment, his eyes darkening the longer he stared across the room. Finally he gave a huff and let his shoulders uncoil, "Dear, it appears that I've got a dilemma. On the one hand, you're quite a fit lad and you'd probably make a great shag. But, on the other hand, I'm not sure you can actually handle even a night with me."

"Believe me, I'm hoping I can't." Harry waited, trying not to look like he was holding his breath. Stupid fucking Exception rules.

"In that case, you best leave. I have to track down a certain straight boy, and you're far too enticing in this room all by yourself." Louis opened the door after what looked like a moment of interal debate, stepping aside slowly to let Harry pass.

Harry stared at him, unsure of what to say, "But...but this is  _my_ room." He didn't care much about that though, not when he brain was still processing the  _you're far too enticing you're far too enticing you're far too enticing_ over and over like his neural pathways were now only capable of replaying those four words over and over again. Not that he minded much, of course.

There was nothing he loved more than being called enticing.

Okay, maybe he liked people  _showing_ him better than he liked them telling him.

Louis tapped his fingers on his thigh impatiently, growling low in his throat, "You do  _not_ want me to come back in there, Brony."

"I think I sort of do," Harry wiggled his eyebrows, leaning back on his hands and giving a lovely view of his collarbones with the scoop neck shirt he was wearing. 

Oh yeah, he was  _so_ fucked.

-

The hardest part of being Harry Styles, in Harry Styles' humble opinion, was telling people  _no_.

Specifically, Nichoulas Grimshaw.

He was nearly as tall as Harry, just as experienced, and oh so  _bendy_. But he wasn't Harry's Exception, so he was sadly off limits.

Not that he exactly got it, though, when he grabbed Harry by the collar and pulled him into the coat closet, his hand automatically moving to give Harry an aggressive hand job, "Hi there, big boy. Miss me?"

It actually  _killed_ him to pull away.

But Harry managed to free himself easily enough, sounding dejected to his own ears, "Unfortunately, Grimmy, I'm not  _allowed_ to. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to hang out with the only person I don't consider a temptation. Maybe in a few months or something when I'm done with this Exception shit, yeah?"

Nick looked thoroughly put out, and he didn't say a word as Harry slipped out of the closet and trotted down the hall.

He found Jade in the game room, painting her toes a lovely sparkly blue color. "Hello, my dearest," he said with a flourish, flopping onto the couch next to her without impaling her with one of his flailing limbs. He considered it a win.

Jade glanced up at him before returning to her toes, humming some pop shit under her breath as she worked, "Do yours?"

"That color won't go with my complexion," Harry said dejectedly, fluffing up his curls as a conselation for having a fairly fucked up day. All things considered, it was definitely one of the top five suckiest days he'd had thus far.

Not that that was saying much, of course.

Jade pursed her lips, eyeing his skin questioningly, "I have green."

Harry clapped his hands together, his day suddenly looking not-so-dire, "Brilliant. Make sure you do the coats nice and even. Frankie did 'em last time and they were total shit."

"She's cute, yeah? Frankie, I mean." Jade was looking everywhere but at him as she shook the polish against the heel of her palm, patting the couch cushion for Harry to place his feet there.

He complied, since Jade was the only person on the planet he was complacent with on a regular basis and without bribery, "I suppose there is a certain appeal, you know from the lesbian and straight guy point of view. Why? Do you have an Exception of your own?"

"No." Total lie.

Harry watched as she painted his toes a lovely moss green color that went lovely with his porcelain skin, "Well, in that case, then she's bloody fucking georgeous. Lovely skills with her tongue, too. Not that I would know, of course." Of course he would know. There were few things he  _didn't_ know when it came to the sexual abilities of the people he lived with.

And he just  _loved_ finding out for himself how much of it was overexaggeration and how much of it was fact.

Jade made a low sound in the back of her throat that could've been either of longing or of disgust, it was hard to tell, but she quickly changed the subject, "So, serial killer, yeah?"

"Yeah," Harry sighed dreamily, wiggling his toes as he waited for the first coat to dry, "isn't he lovely?"

Jade gave him a dubious look, starting to work on the second coat, "Lovely isn't exactly the word I'd use to describe him, but I'm not going to be the first to judge you for it. You've gone for weirder, of course. But, I have to say, it's a bit fast to deem him an Exception."

Jade had a point, but that wasn't unusual. 

Harry tapped a finger to his lips, considering, "He's different."

"In the right way?" As she tightened the cap on the polish, Jade inspected her work with satisfaction. Painting toenails was her thing, just like sex was Harry's. Though one took a bit more skill than the other.

He didn't even have to think about it, "Yeah, definitely."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cheers xx


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is an exception except the Exception.

"Are your toenails painted?"

Harry glanced up from reading some of his fanmail, wiggling his toes as he smirked up at his Exception, "Match my eyes. Aren't they lovely?"

"What the  _fu_ \--wait, is that a letter written  _just_ about how great your penis is?" Both of Louis' eyebrows disappeared under the brim of his ever-present snapback, and he leaned a little closer as if Harry would actually allow him to read any of his  _private_ mail.

Okay, so he totally would.

"Yes," he said cooly, sipping at his tea and arching a brow as elegantly as he could manage. It was pretty fucking elegant. He may have started out young with the rebel-without-a-cause flare, but that didn't mean he wasn't a classy motherfucker. Because he was.

Just ask Niall's mum.

It was only then that he realized that Louis was speaking, and he rolled his eyes and bared his teeth when he had to repeat himself, "I  _said_ , you twat, that I'd like to know what the fuck the deal is with all this  _Exception_ with a capital  _E_ business is about. No one will tell me  _anything_ ," and his grin was all lethality around the edges that made Harry tense all over in anticipation, "but I have a feeling that  _you_ will."

"You don't get to know. You're unallowed until initiation," Harry frowned into his mug as he said it, his fanmail forgotten in his lap. He was no longer interested in hearing about how lovely and beautiful and  _elegant_ his dick was. He already  _knew_ all of those things, and he'd much prefer to hear those things coming from his serial killer.

Louis just huffed and dropped his palms flat on the table, his face inches from Harry's as he glared and sneered, "What the  _fuck_ is initiation and why the  _fuck_ do I have to be  _fucking_ initiated into this damn  _fucking_ club?"

"You need a broader vocabulary," Harry noted, shifting and chewing on his cheek. He had to be  _very_ delicate with this situation, knowing he was already walking a thin line as it was. 

Fuck it all.

Adjusting himself so that the bridge of his nose brushed along his Exception's, Harry gave a little sigh of contentment at the contact and relented, "Alright, killer, here's the deal: you're someone's Exception with a capital E, which means several things. Number one, good luck trying to figure out which one of these fuckers it is. Number two, you better be a brash little fucker 'cause whoever it is that's so hung on you isn't allowed to even  _kiss_ you first. Well, the first time. After that...Anyway, where was I? Right. Number seven, no one else in the house is allowed to touch you. You've been claimed, you lucky fucker. Like being someone's bitch in prison, except, well, it's a bit reversed."

And that wasn't going to get him into any trouble at all because he'd been very neutral and diplomatic about the entire thing. He was  _proud_ of himself even.

Louis only narrowed his eyes, running his tongue obscenely along his top teeth, "How's that, Brony?" The name was like a caress coming out of those lips, brushing against Harry's face with all the gentleness and affection he'd never really allowed himself to have before.

"Trust me, you'll start noticing things. Like not even Frankie'll get pissed at you. And you'll always get first dibbs on ribs days. Oh, and there are also the perks of how Perrie treats you. She probably won't perscribe you an antipsychotics for at least the first month and a half you're here. Sounds lovely, yeah?" Harry knew he was selling it, overly so. But he just couldn't  _help it_. All he wanted to do was show Louis the little hearts in his eyes and hold doors open for him and let the stupid fucking serial killer know that it was _him_ showering all that adoration on his ass.

But, well, he wasn't  _allowed_.

"Can I read the letter about your cock?" The Exception asked after a moment, not moving away and not moving closer either.

Something jumped under Harry's skin, and he wanted to groan at the realization of just what kind of mood he was in today.  _Fuck._ "It'll cost you." He knew this was totally going to get him in deep shit if Zayn found out (which, of course he would) but some things were just decidedly more important.

Like the insatiable need he had to climb into someone's lap and be held and have someone run their fingers through his hair and coo soft and sweet nothings in his ear. That was a very unlikely wish to be granted, and not just because he'd never admit to someone that he  _needed_ that, but because the only person that had ever held him like that had turned out to be the  _worst fucking person in the whole world_. So. No cuddling today.

"No, I don't think it will. Since I'm an Exception with a capital E and all that. So I'm just gonna take this and be on my merry way." And Louis did just that, swaying his hips as he went. He stopped when he was halfway to the doorway, turning around with his eyebrows drawn together, "Hey, wait the fuck a minute. You didn't tell me fucking  _shit_ about what the fuck an Exception with a capital E is."

Harry only grinned, picking up another letter, this one about his tongue, "Broaden your vocabulary."

-

"Fornicate."

Zayn, Niall, Liam, and Harry all glanced up from their very heated discussion about who they thought Gossip Girl was before they watched the final season, three of them going back to it when they saw who was standing defiantly in the doorway.

Harry smirked and arched a brow, rising to his feet and sort of bumbling to stand in front of Louis, "Nice word."

"I've broadened my vocabulary." Louis said it deliberately slowly, making sure Harry got just exactly what he was being told. Fucking  _serial killer_ Louis the  _Exception_ went and  _looked up words because Harry fucking told him to._

Was it any wonder he was so hopelessly  _fucked_?

"Gold star, mate." Unable to hide the ridiculously  _giddy_ smile on his face, Harry wobbled around until he could sink back against the wall, slumping enough so that he'd be at least a fraction of an inch short of  _towering_ over his lovely Exception of a serial killer.

And, suddenly, he felt like writing poetry.

Louis was already speaking though, stepping  _closer_ and looking very determined to get what he wanted. If only that were Harry at the moment. "I'm keeping that letter about your dick, Brony. It was sorta deep and poetic like. Really touched my soul."

"That the only place you've been touched?" Harry arched a brow slowly, deliberately curling his mouth into the half little smirk he just  _knew_ would get him  _some_ kind of points. It  _had_ to. Because if his damn mouth started failing him now, he was going to have to exchange it or  _something_ because he just couldn't  _take_ all this angst and  _waiting_.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Louis hooked a finger into Harry's collar, tugging experimentally before turning his head to lock his glaring little blue eyes onto Zayn, "Hey, Malik, how's about we get on with this  _fornicating_ initiation already, yeah?" 

Oh  _god_.

Harry  _choked_ , doubling over and ending up with his face pressed against his serial killer's neck. Forcing himself to breathe through the  _fuckfuckfuck_ tumbling around in his head, he managed, "What the  _fuck_ even, killer? Are you  _trying_ to kill  _me_?"

"That's the general idea, yeah," Louis sniffed, unconcerned with the fact that Harry was essentially completely putting all his weight on the shorter of the two. His eyes returned to Zayn and he sounded just a tad bit more than impatient, "Well? Are you  _deaf_? What do I have to do? Come  _on_." The last bit was directed at Harry, who had regained control of his breathing and decided he just couldn't  _help_ running his tongue right over his killer's jugular. _  
_

Harry pulled back and grinned charmingly, blinking innocently, "Where were we, Ni? I still think Dan's the bastard telling everyone's secrets." He kept his eyes locked on Louis as he flopped back into his spot on the couch, wiggling his hips around until he was decidedly _teasing_ to the point that he would most definitely get in trouble.

Fucking  _rules_.

Zayn looked absolutely  _pinched_ as he said, "Midnight, serial killer. If you pass, we'll tell you everything."

"Be there or be square!" Niall called helpfully as Louis turned away.

 _Fuck_.

-

Harry didn't often feel stupid.

But standing in the basement surrounded by the glow of candles and his brothers (and sisters) in psychosis, he felt like a total wanker. Not because of initiation (it was one of his  _favorite_ things) but because this was  _his_ killer's initiation.

Which was less than thrilling.

Louis was perched on the last step of the stairs, arms crossed and shadows playing across his face in the dodgey lighting, tongue ring flashing dauntingly as he opened his mouth, "Well?"

Someone (probably Liam) shushed him, and everyone turned to look between Zayn and Harry. Harry was rather proudly the ringleader of this fucked bunch of misfits, but he technically didn't even have the right to  _be_ there, let alone run the show. So he huffed and slunk over to the far wall where just a few mornings prior, Aiden had been sucking him off--or  _trying_ to, anyway. 

Zayn cleared his throat and pointed a finger at Louis, "Sure you wanna do this?"

" _Fuck_ yes," he snapped, rising to his feet and rolling out his shoulders.

Harry liked the idea of being able to  _help_ with aleviating the tension in those shoulders. Probably more than he should.

Not that  _that_ stopped him.

"Alright," Zayn wasn't as well-versed in this speech as Harry (even though they'd come up with it together) but he didn't  _sound_ unsure of himself, which was really all that mattered, "you've been  _picked_ , serial killer. Which means you have two options; remain unfucked and unfuckable until you leave this sodding hellhole." Pause for dramatic effect because this is  _Zayn_ , " _Or_ take on the challenge of the Exceptions."

"I'll take the challange," Louis replied boredly when Zayn paused for breath, leaning against the stair railing and flicking his eyes over to Harry.

Harry did  _not_ grin like he was  _proud_  of all things. 

Only, he totally did.

Zayn grimaced at having been interrupted, looking throughly put out, "You don't even know what it _is_."

Louis looked entirely unapologetic as he shrugged, "So tell me, pretty boy."

 _Fucked_ , Harry thought to himself.

He could tell Zayn was done trying to be theatrical at that point, and felt he should probably be at least a bit concerned for his Exception, but there was also that part of him (three guesses as to  _which_ part) that was  _very_ aware Louis the serial killer would be able to hold his own. 

And then Zayn had to go and fuck it all up.

"You have to make Harry sing for you."

Mother _fuck_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i honestly have no idea what the fuck im doing at this point xx


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> up in smoke, uh oh
> 
> and not just physical fire either

In hindsight, putting  _Frankie_ of all people in a room full of  _fire_ definitely wasn't the best idea.

Of course, it wasn't until Harry was standing on the front lawn in a pair of boxers that were a size too small and his toes were probably going to freeze off as he watched the house in front of him gently smoldering that he remembered they were supposed to blow out the candles.

"Oops," Niall muttered, resting his head on Harry's chest because he was Niall and rules didn't really apply to him.

Liam was there in an instant, looping his arm around Niall's waist and glaring at Harry, " _Mine_."

Harry was too naked and sleepy to protest, so he just slouched and crossed his arms over his chest. He could  _feel_ Nick and Aiden staring at him, but he just didn't have the energy to  _care_.

So he didn't.

Good thing, too, because just then the front door opened and a fireman appeaered in a plume of smoke with Frankie tossed over one shoulder like a sack. She didn't appear too thrilled with the positioning, drumming her fingers on his back and looking like she wanted to set  _him_ on fire. It was quite a show, really, and Harry found himself marginally more awake than he had been five seconds prior.

"Why is it that I have to make  _you_ sing?" Louis the Exception with a capital E asked, appearing groggy and wearing glasses in front of Harry, the oversized shirt hanging off of his slight frame falling nearly to his knees.

Harry squinted, reaching out with his fingers to pluck at the hem of the shirt, "Is that mine?"

Louis wrapped his fingers around Harry's wrist, holding on and not pushing him away, sighing, "Yes. Answer the question."

"Because I don't sing for people. Not even you, I think." And he remembered that he was supposed to have a  _very_ stern talk with Zayn about making important decisions when grumpy and how he was going to maim the Bradford boy if things went to shit because he had to go and bring up the  _singing_.

"I'm wearing your shirt," Louis pointed out, and it caused an ache in Harry's chest that his  _serial killer_ was looking up at him with such an innocent and pouty expression on his face. Like he really,  _honest to God,_ thought that was going to make a difference.

It took  _willpower_ not to melt under that look, "Lou, don't look at me like that, please. I'm too tired and horny and naked and cold."

"I can help with, like, half of those," Louis insisted, looking _very_ appealing in that moment. Harry seriously considered getting it on right then and there even though they were surrounded by people, most of whom would  _not approve_.

"If only my room weren't occupied by flames," Harry said sadly, very aware of the fact that he was still clutching Louis'--his--shirt and Louis was still clutching his wrist. The contact felt nice, nice enough to make him rethink that whole  _people around_ thing.

Louis squinted, "If I kissed you, and you kissed me back, would that mean I'm  _your_  Exception with a capital E?"

"No," Harry said honestly, because Harry would kiss him back no matter whose Exception he was.

Paul was fuming in the corner, looking ready to pin the blame on someone.

Harry didn't have a chance to wait for Louis' response, and he slumped his shoulders, "I have a thing."

Louis the serial killer flicked his gaze down to Harry's boxers and back up, arching a brow, "I noticed."

"No," Harry wiggled in frustration, forcing himself to let go of his shirt, "I mean I have to go. Do a thing."

Louis, however, didn't let go of Harry's wrist, taking a step forward when Harry took one backward, "Off we go, then." And he was looking at Harry without eyeliner to darken his eyes and a snapback to sharpen his features and Harry was suddenly very aware of just how  _pretty_ his serial killer was. 

Harry melted. Right there in front of a burning building. It was sort of like deja vu. Only he felt this time might go a little differently. "Yeah, alright, don't say I didn't warn you. You might not like me very much in a few minutes."

"Still gonna wanna fuck you," Louis promised  _very_ seriously, the way his lips forming the words nearly pornographic. And, right then, Harry  _knew_ he was in trouble. And he  _loved_ it. 

So Harry shrugged and started toward Paul, his wrist still in Louis' possession. Once they were standing in the middle of the yard, Harry grinned his most charming grin (which was  _really_ fucking charming) and spread his hands wide.

And then he shouted, "I did it! I started the fire!"

-

Perrie looked less than thrilled. 

Zayn looked mildly bemused, and he was still on one knee. A blue raspberry ring pop sat nestled in a black square box in his hands, looking a bit forlorne honestly.

Niall slapped a hand over his eyes, and Liam groaned for the both of them. Jade was too busy running her fingers through Frankie's fringe to notice what was going on, and Louis was mysteriously absent from the entire thing.

"You can't be serious." Perrie turned her narrowed gaze to Harry, lips drawn thin, "He's not serious,  _is he?"_

Harry frowned, not even having the willpower to facepalm. He  _told_ Zayn this was going to happen. 

"So," Zayn said slowly, his voice slightly sarcastic, "that's a no, then?"

Perrie slapped him. 

As the mauve haired therapist stomped away, Zayn deflated like a sagging balloon, falling on his ass. He blinked wide eyes up at Harry, looking close to tears, "Ow."

"C'mon, love," Harry sighed, gathering his best friend in his lap and patting his back, "it'll be alright."

"She slapped me," Zayn siad slowly, like he couldn't get past that.

Harry sighed again, "I know, Zayn."

"She's my Exception."

"I know, Zayn."

"She'll come around, right?"

"Of course, Zayn."

But Harry wasn't sure.

-

This was just  _not_ Harry's week.

"I kissed Nick Grimshaw. Does that mean  _he's_ my Exception with a capital E?" Louis interrupted Harry's breakfast, looking bright-eyed and freshly showered, damp fringe hanging in his eyes.

Harry didn't answer. He only stared dejectedly down at his cheerios. He didn't feel very cheery at the moment. "No."

"Then how am I suppsosed to  _know_?" Louis the serial killer looked proper put out as he slumped into the seat next to Harry, looking just a tad defeated.

Harry bit down on his cheek, refusing to answer. He'd spent the better part of the night reassuring Zayn that it wasn't the end of the world, the rest of it smarting over the fact that he wasn't allowed to have free time outside of his room for the week. 

Louis poked at his ribs, leaning closer, "Hey, Brony, what gives? C'mon, mate, help me out here."

"Go ask  _Grimshaw_ ," Harry huffed, scraping his chair back and abandoning his soggy cereal. He headed straight for his room, ignoring Paul hovering in the corner to make sure that,  _yes_ , he did go straight to his room and  _stay_ there.

This was just  _not_ his week.

Louis followed, adamant as ever, "Hey, Harry, wait, Harry. God _damnit_ , Harold!"

Harry stopped long enough to turn around, grab his serial killer firmly by the shoulders, and plant a kiss square on his mouth. It wasn't anything like a first kiss  _should_ be; it was rough and demanding and not at all awkward.

Harry didn't even open his mouth, pulling back and releasing the gaping boy in front of him, "Goodbye."

Paul didn't even look like he was going to attempt to break up whatever it was that was going on, leaning against the wall and looking slightly amused.

Louis stared for far too long, his jaw slack.

Harry slammed the door in his face.

-

"I kissed him," Harry interrupted, knowing he'd pull out his hair if he had to listen to Zayn tell him  _again_ about how Perrie was his Exception and shit.

Zayn looked nonplussed, inspecting the bottom of Harry's foot before continuing to paint little stick people across his toes, "Well. Can't say I'm surprised. Was it an angry kiss?"

Harry thought for a moment, shrugging, "Yeah."

"Fitting. And how did killer take it?" Zayn wasn't upset or distressed, so Harry figured he was too caught up in his Perrie drama to really care that Harry had broken the rules.

He picked at a scab on his knuckles, "Not sure. I slammed the door in his face."

"Harry."

"Yes, Zayn?"

"This changes things."

"I know, Zayn."

Silence.

"You still have to sing for him for him to be initiated."

"I know, Zayn."

And the more Harry thought about it, the more he realized that maybe he  _didn't_ want to sing for his Exception.

Things might just be more fun that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> who doesn't love fire?
> 
> I love fire.
> 
> thanks for reading
> 
> cheers
> 
> xx

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading xx


End file.
